Vermont
by MagicInHerMadness
Summary: One shot collection featuring Vermont. Lots of fluff.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't normally write about Olitz in Vermont because Shonda has made me feel some type of way about what will happen when they get there IF they ever get there. This isn't the place to discuss my issues with Shonda though, so I digress. Anyway, this is just a little drabble because I've been watching a lot of Olitz scenes and I got all in my feels. I'm probably not going to continue this, but I'd love to know what you guys think anyway! XOXO**

Olivia stared at her half-asleep baby girl with an exhausted frown. The two-week-old infant, Isabelle, was refusing to breastfeed. Had it been the first time the baby had done it, Olivia wouldn't have worried. But she and Isabelle had been having a difficult time since they left the hospital. Isabelle would eat a little then refuse to eat any more for hours. Lately, the infant was barely eating at all. Fitz smirked at his wife's cajoling tone as she tried to get the baby to latch onto her breast. He sat behind her on the bed and she leaned back against him with a sigh.

"She won't latch on. She hates me," Olivia whimpered, close to tears.

"She doesn't hate you," he answered, rubbing her shoulders gently. "Babies are like dogs. They can smell fear."

She wiped her eyes and lifted Isabelle's face near her breast for the fourth time, hoping the little girl would finally latch on. She didn't, just blinked at her mother and made spit bubbles. Olivia looked back at Fitz with sad eyes. "What do you think I should do?"

"I think you're a little hormonal, and more than a little tired." He kissed the crown of her head, reaching around her to stroke Isabelle's downy soft curls. The little girl yawned and closed her pale blue eyes then opened them again. "I think you should both take a little nap and try again when you wake up."

"What if she still won't do it?" Olivia yawned. She was tired, having been up worrying since 3AM when she fed Isabelle for the only successful time that day.

"We're not gonna worry about that right now." He continued to rub her tense shoulders until she relaxed against him. He kissed the curve of her jaw then her lips. Isabelle had drifted off to sleep.

"How can I not worry? That's the _one_ thing we're automatically supposed to be able to do, Fitz." She was close to tears again, her voice cracking. Fitz kissed her again. She was always so strong and self-assured that it broke his heart to see her so insecure about something. He wasn't worried. He'd already been through three babies and knew they all ate at their own pace and on their own schedule.

"Calm down, Livvie," he murmured against her hair as she wiped away the tears streaking her face. He had been hoping to lull her to sleep by rubbing her shoulders, but she seemed completely oblivious to his touching. "When she's hungry, she'll eat."

Olivia nodded, looking down at Isabelle. The little girl was practically Fitz's clone, only a little tanner. She had his eyes and his soft curls and his smile. The only thing she had gotten from her mother was her nose. Olivia absently remarked, "She looks just like you."

"You think so?" She had his eyes but to him, everything else was Olivia. He saw only Olivia when he was looking at their baby girl, but that was because he loved them both so much that it didn't even occur to him to see himself when he looked at the product of their love

Since the day they'd gotten married, he'd been praying for a baby boy, someone he could take fishing and teach to throw the football. His divorce from Mellie had been as ugly as he'd expected, and as a result, he only saw Teddy on holidays. A little boy with Olivia would be his second chance, his opportunity to get parenting right. When she told him she was pregnant, he could already see his boy suited up on Friday nights, leading his team to a state championship, holding that trophy high above his head. Then the ultrasound had revealed an absence of a certain appendage necessary for all Fitz's dreams to come true and he was lost. Karen had followed her mother everywhere as a little girl so he didn't spend a lot of time with her. He hadn't had to have any tea parties, or play with Barbies and dress-up. He wasn't sure what he'd do with a little girl. Then, that magical morning after 27 hours of frantic waiting, he had looked into those little gray eyes and everything changed. He was wrapped around her finger instantly. She was immediately the center of his whole world. He wasn't sure he even wanted a boy anymore, his heart lost to his sweet, little, beautiful, wonderful, perfect all-American baby girl.

"She's got your eyes, and your smile, and that," Olivia fingered the longest lock of Isabelle's hair that hung right about where his longest curl did, "is definitely a budding Superman curl."

He laughed. "I think she has your smile. And your ears. And your stubbornness, apparently."

"_My_ stubbornness?" she scoffed, giving him a wide-eyed look. "You're _actually_ saying I'm the stubborn one in this relationship?"

"I was only stubborn because you were." He smirked when she rolled her eyes.

"'I am not spending any more time away from you, Olivia.' 'I'm not letting you go.' 'We are never over.'" He smirked at her impression of him. She thought she was so cute.

"'Did you need something, Mr. President?' 'I am not yours.' 'You don't summon me.' 'Let me go.' 'There's no Vermont.' 'You need to stop calling me.'" She giggled, remembering all the times she'd tried to push him away, and never meant it.

"'Then you need to stop answering.'" She kissed him, smiling at the taste of coffee on his lips. It felt like it had been years since she'd last had coffee. "I'm glad you didn't stop calling."

"I'm glad you didn't stop answering," he replied, looking down at Isabelle. "Look."

Olivia looked down and gasped, relief flooding her body. Isabelle had finally latched on.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: SR and crew are taking too long to give me Vermont so I'm going to write my own stories about it. I'm also willing to take requests. Tell me what you guys think! XOXO**

Olivia frowned at the nightly news. It was never anything interesting anymore. She got up to get more wine from the kitchen at the exact moment that one of her phones began buzzing on the coffee table. Just as she was about to check which one, the doorbell rang. She left the phones without checking to see who was calling and went to the door.

"Did you just ignore my call?" he asked in a huff, his face jokingly indignantly. She grinned like an idiot at the sight of him, waved at Tom over his right shoulder. The agent nodded, taking a seat on the little folding lawn chair he had begun bringing along whenever Fitz rendezvoused at Olivia's place.

"Sure did," she replied as she stepped back to let him in. He scooped her into his arms immediately, kicking the door shut. She wound her fingers in his hair, covering his face in wine-laced kisses. He smiled against her mouth, enjoying the rare display of affection from her. He was surprised when she murmured, "I missed you," against his lips. He had been in England for a week and they'd only gotten to talk three times. She was surprised by how much she'd missed his smile, and his laugh, and those eyes.

"Do I get to spend the night since you're so happy to see me?" he asked, knowingly pushing his luck. Olivia was wary of overnight visits because she was terrified someone would see him leaving her apartment so early in the morning. She frowned, wanting to say no. But he had been gone so long, and she had missed his face so much.

"Well it's already so late…" A smile tugged at her lips. "I guess one night wouldn't hurt."

"You missed me. You missed me. You missed me," he teased in a sing-song voice. He carried her to the couch and sat down, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her lips repeatedly, savoring the taste of her lips. He murmured against the hollow of her throat that he had missed her like crazy, and that she was coming along on his next trip. She didn't comment as she buried her nose in his curls, mostly because she didn't want to tell him how much she would love to go with him somewhere they didn't have to constantly look over their shoulders. His hands slipped inside the leg holes of her powder blue silk romper, grabbing hold of her soft bottom and squeezing appreciatively. His lips between her breasts, he announced, "I'm ready for bed."

"I wanna hear about your trip," she replied, leaning back on her haunches, trapping his hands underneath her.

"We can do that in bed." He hoisted her into his arms, wrapping her shapely legs around his waist as he carried her to her bedroom. He sat on the bed and leaned back against her plush silk pillowcase-covered pillows as he kicked his shoes off. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down so that her chest was against his. She couldn't resist kissing him, her mouth missing the taste of his tongue. His hands found the spaghetti straps of her romper and slipped them down. She reluctantly took her mouth away from his.

"I thought you were going to tell me about your trip." She smirked at him. He sighed, playfully tossing her onto the other side of the bed. She got under the covers and waited for him to do the same. He stood and slipped off his dark blue pajama pants. She laughed. "You know, this is the first time I've ever seen you out of the White House and not in a suit."

He smirked as he folded his pants, a remnant of his Navy days, and placed them in the chair next to her window. "I wore pajamas because I was planning to spend the night making love to the woman I love after being apart for a whole week. If I had known I was going to have to recap my trip, I would've worn something a little more interview appropriate."

She laughed as he climbed into bed with her. "Excuse me for taking an interest in my man's life. I'll try not to care so much."

He gave as goofy grin as he made himself comfortable, pulling her against him. "You just called me your man."

She smiled, rolling her eyes as she realized she that she had. He was so sentimental. "Don't read anything into it."

"Too late," he declared, still grinning at her. "I'm your man. I'm gonna get a t-shirt that says I'M OLIVIA POPE'S MAN on the front in big black letters and wear it everywhere."

She laughed. "That might be fun until Cyrus kills us both."

He laughed then began peppering her lips with feather soft kisses that made her eyes close. He murmured, "Call me your man again."

She smiled against his lips. "Tell me about your trip."

He smirked at her. "Honestly, England is cold and dreary and crowded like you wouldn't believe. We got approximately one hour of sunshine the whole week. The food is inedible. Tea is the _only_ thing to drink in the whole country, unless you want _warm_ beer which frankly tastes like urine. I don't understand why you're so interested in hearing about it, really."

"You're a shitty storyteller, Fitzgerald." He poked her side and made her giggle. She was the only person who got away with calling him Fitzgerald.

"Okay, so there was one high point," he said as he pulled her close, laying her head on his chest. "I met the Queen."

Olivia looked up at him. "What's she like?"

"She's…impressive," he answered.

"You really spare no detail." He poked her side again, making her giggle.

"You know, you're a real smartass."

She scoffed. "You're one to talk."

He laughed. God, he loved her. "She's very small, probably about your size. And she loves _Game of Thrones_, believe it or not. I made her laugh. She hardly ever laughs, and I made her laugh."

He sounded so proud of himself that Olivia's heart practically bled with affection. She couldn't remember the last time he'd sounded so pleased about anything he did. She asked, "What did you say?"

"I broke out my joke collection." Olivia groaned sarcastically. Fitz laughed.

"_Please_ tell me you didn't tell _the_ _Queen_ that joke about the two guys and the prostitute with the glass eye," she replied.

He laughed. "No, I'm saving that gem for the Pope. I told her the one about the married couple and the horse. She cracked up."

"It's not my personal favorite but if Her Majesty laughed, it must be funny." She snuggled closer, putting her right leg between his legs. "So what else happened?"

"I had the best ice cream of my life," he replied. He had an adorable sweet tooth, like a child. Olivia had taken to keeping candy in her purse at events because he always complained about wanting sweets.

"Best ice cream of your life. Really?"

"Yeah. It was coffee flavored." He smiled down at her. She had the biggest and most beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen. "You would've liked it. We should go back and get some."

She laughed. "We should go to England for ice cream?"

"Yeah," he answered. "We should do everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"Like what?"

"Everything there is. We should ride bikes in the street, and get tattoos, and talk about the universe at 3 AM while we sit on the kitchen counter." He laughed. She did too. "And go hiking, and fishing, and watch bad movies. We should go on road trips, and eat bacon cheeseburgers at 4 in the morning, and have barbecues, and water balloon fights. We should have babies, and adopt dogs, and sing along with the radio, and run around in the rain then get warm in front of the fireplace."

Olivia wrapped her arms around him tighter, closing her eyes as he built her a world of dreams. In a soft voice, she said, "Tell me about Vermont."

He smirked at her. "I thought Vermont wasn't an option."

"Stop being a smartass, Fitzgerald," she admonished, smiling as she poked his side.

"Well, we live there for a few years before I actually run for mayor. It isn't until you're pregnant for the second time that we actually talk about it seriously. You manage my campaign and I become Burlington's best looking mayor by a landslide. You work in the DA's office, highest closure rate in the city. You could make millions in private practice, but you love wearing the white hat."

"How many kids do we have?" she asked, her eyes still closed. Listening to him talk about their fairy tale made her want to meld into him.

"Four." He smiled. "There's Isabelle. She's the oldest. She just turned 6. She looked like me but she's you through and through. Stubborn as an ox, smart as a whip, and cute as a button. She's in kindergarten and she's reading and writing faster than everyone else in her class.

And then there's Thomas. He's 4. He looks just like I did at that age, but he's got your eyes. He's so mischievous. He loves sneaking into the backyard to run around with his toy airplane. And he's not supposed to, but he's his mama's baby so he hardly ever gets in trouble for it.

Then there's Noah. He's 2. He looked just like you, like you spit him out. He's the sweetest baby. He has the kind of laugh that makes the worst days okay. He's learning to use the potty and he runs around the house announcing it to everyone when he goes. He says he wants to be me when he grows up. Or Batman.

And last there's Rosie. She's 9 months. She is the best and worst of us. When she's happy, it's magic. But she's hell on wheels when she isn't. She has my eyes, and your smile, and the cutest dimples in the world. She's crawling and pulling up on stuff. She's got two little bottom teeth and she chews up a pacifier a week. I want to take it away, but you won't let me.

And you make jam, and cookies, and Sunday dinners, and Easter eggs, and arts and crafts. Isabelle helps you make her lunch every day before school. And I take her to school on my way to work because I refuse to let her ride the bus. You work from home unless you have to be in court. You didn't think it would work, but no one's better at your job than you so they let you do it. You held Isabelle with her homework every day. She's learning to make sentences. She taught Thomas to write his name, and they both make the s backwards. She's teaching Noah to count, but she can only count to 25 so it's a rather slow process. And every evening when I get home, we make dinner together. It used to be exotic cuisine from all over the world, but now it's chicken nuggets or frozen pizza or veggie bites. After we give baths and put on pajamas, we all pile up in our bed to read bedtime stories. It's always _Goodnight Moon_ because it's Noah's favorite. It used to be me and you reading, but now it's Izzy.

Thomas is always the first one asleep. He won't let me carry him to bed though. It always has to be you. Rosie's out next and I tuck her into her crib and turn on her princess mobile. She smiles in her sleep. Isabelle won't fall asleep until the story is finished, even though she's always half-asleep by the time she's halfway through. And she walks herself to bed because she's a big girl now. Noah fights tooth and nail to stay awake even though he's exhausted. But a hug and kiss from his mama puts him down immediately. And then it's just me and the missus."

"What do we do?" she asked before yawning. Something about his scent and warmth made her so relaxed that she could barely keep her eyes open.

"We share a bottle of wine and watch trash TV. And when the wine is gone…" His index fingertip made small circles in the small of her back, prepared to give her a demonstration. But he looked down and found her eyes shut. Her breathing was so soft and even that he didn't have the heart to wake her. He kissed the top of her head and murmured, "Goodnight Mrs. Grant."

"Who said I was taking your last name?" she asked, surprising him.

He chuckled. "If you're going to be my first lady, you have to take my name."

She smiled at the thought of being his first lady, being Mrs. Fitzgerald Thomas Grant III, finally standing in the sun. "I love you, even if you are a caveman."

"I love you too, stubborn little woman." It amazed him how much he loved her, how much he loved just being close to her. He was jealous of her clothes because they touched her more than he did, and of her lipstick because it got to spend all day on her lips.

The next morning, Olivia awoke alone in bed. Her heart sank as she sat up, looking around for a sign of him. His pajama pants were gone from the chair. It didn't seem like him to leave without telling her goodbye. She wondered if he had even been there with her, or if she'd dreamed the whole thing. The right side of her bed smelled like him. He had been there, but where had he gone? She pulled the covers back and gasped at her left hand. On her left ring finger was a princess cut diamond surrounded by rubies gleamed up at her. She jumped out of bed and raced to the kitchen in search of him. When she didn't find him, she came back to her bedroom and sat on her bed, her mind jumping from thought to thought at a dizzying pace as she stared at the ring.

"All your soap smells girly." She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of his voice. He stood before her, a white towel around his waist. His hair was wet and slicked back from his face.

"What is this?" She held out her slightly shaking hand.

"A very nice piece of jewelry," he replied with a silly smile.

"Fitz…" Her tone was testy and anxious.

He surprised her by kneeling between her legs and taking her hands in his. "Liv, it's just… It's not the ring I want to give you, and I know you won't wear it like it is—if you wear it at all—but while I was in England, I got to thinking about us. You were the only person I wanted to talk to and when I got home, I didn't want to see anyone but you. And right now, I can't give you the vows or dress or all the things you deserve…so I got you the ring as a promise. When all this is over, when I'm done being president, I'm going to give you everything: the wedding, the honeymoon, Vermont, babies, the whole dream. I love you, Liv, and I can't shout it from the rooftops like I want, but I can be okay knowing that you know how I feel when you look at that ring."

Her eyes were glassy with tears as she took the ring off. His heart sank when she took the ring off, then leapt when she slid it onto her right ring finger instead. She cupped his face in her palms and kissed him, only letting the tears fall when his eyes closed.

Tom knocked gingerly on her partially open door and they sheepishly stopped kissing. "Mr. President, I got your clothes. And your breakfast is in the kitchen… Good morning Ms. Pope."

"Good morning Tom," she replied, smiling at his nervous face. He put the overnight bad down then scurried away. She looked back at Fitz and rubbed his stubbly cheek with her fingertips. She had never loved him so much. He sat on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. She kissed his bare chest, right where his heart was. He wrapped his arms around her, taking her right hand in his, and brushed his lips against her temple.

"Promise me something," he half-whispered. She looked up at him, willing to give him anything. "I know I don't have the right to… I mean I can't ask you to… Just…"

She had never known him to be so tongue-tied. She stared into his eyes. "What is it, Fitz? You can say anything to me."

"I can't ask you to stay faithful to me. I don't have the right to ask that. Just promise me that you'll try not to fall in love with anyone else," he said softly, winding one of her curls around his index finger. It didn't even occur to her that she might fall for someone else. She didn't have room for anyone else in her mind or heart. The idea that he could have been worried about something as illogical as that made her laugh. Confusion etched his handsome face.

When her laughter subsided, she looked at him very seriously. "You don't have to worry. I can't… breathe without you, Fitz. I can't think or feel or sleep when I don't talk to you. When we're apart… I'm not dead, but I'm alive either. I'm a ghost with a beating heart. I can't even imagine falling for someone else."

The smile that spread across his face made her heart swell. He kissed her cheeks, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, her chin, and finally her lips. She kissed him deeply, trying to meld into him. He laid her back on the bed, his hands on her thighs.

"Fitz…" she breathed as his lips found her neck. She wasn't sure how she was able to resist him. "I have to go to work, and you have to run the country…"

"You're your own boss, and if everyone is to be believed, I'm the leader of the free world. I think we can take a personal day," he murmured as he slipped off her pajamas. He was trailing kisses up the inside of her thigh when his phone began buzzing on the nightstand. Cyrus and Olivia were the only people who had his cell number so he knew who was calling. He sighed. She ran her fingers through his hair as she sat up. He smiled at her as he went to answer the phone. "I'm coming back tonight. This isn't over."

She smiled as she slipped on her robe. "I hope not."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This is just a little drabble of how I imagine the kind of father I imagine Fitz would be. Let me know what you think and give me requests please. XOXO**

Fitz blinked awake at the sound of Isabelle whining coming through the baby monitor on his nightstand. He had taken if after Olivia fell asleep because she was exhausted and needed the uninterrupted rest. He rolled out of bed, careful not to wake his wife. After using the bathroom, he turned the monitor off and went to Isabelle's pink and green nursery. She was sitting up in her mahogany crib, looking at the door with a frown that instantly became a smile at the sight of her daddy. At 9 months, she was practically Fitz's twin but her personality was all Olivia: fire and spice all day. The quote painted above her bed, "Though she be but little, she is fierce!" was completely accurate for the little girl. She pulled herself up in her crib and held out her arms for him to pick her up.

He smiled, kissing her chubby cheeks. "What's with all the fussing, little girl?"

She took hold of the curls at the crown of his head, something he didn't understand that she did to everyone. He yawned as he went to open her mint green lace curtains. "Daddy hasn't been up this early in a long time, baby. Look. That's a sunrise."

She smiled, leaning forward to grab the rising sun, babbling happily. Fitz noticed the heaviness of her diaper. He made silly faces at her as he carried her to the changing table. Once she was in a clean diaper, Fitz carried his baby girl downstairs, singing a silly song. She babbled happily as he settled in his favorite leather chair with her in his lap. He turned on the TV, flipping to the news.

"Lakers lost," he remarked. He had developed the tendency of talking to her like she could respond to him because he hoped it would make her talk sooner. Isabelle babbled a reply as she stared at the screen. She soon grew bored and pulled herself up, her little feet planted firmly on his thigh as she began tugging at his curls. He moved her so that she was standing on the chair, a sturdier base, so that he could still see the TV. She pointed at the screen when he changed the channel to ESPN, babbling excitedly at the noise of a basketball game. Fitz explained, "That's the Clippers. That's Daddy's other team."

He continued flipping channels, stopping on CNN's daily stock market report. He commented, "I'm glad I got out of the market when I did. These numbers are in the toilet."

Isabelle laughed as she understood him and he smiled at her. She was the only girl other than her mother whose laugh filled him with immediate happiness. A dog food commercial came on and Isabelle pointed at the screen, babbling excitedly as she bounced. Fitz smiled at her excited, mostly toothless grin. He explained, "Those are puppies. When you have brothers and sisters, we're gonna get two puppies: a big one and a little one."

The commercial ended and another featuring ducks came on. "And duckies too. What do duckies say?"

Isabelle stopped pulling Fitz's hair and looked at Fitz as if she really knew the answer. He smiled at her little befuddled face and said, "They say quack quack. Can you quack like a ducky?"

He quacked until she picked up the sound and parroted it back, laughing and clapping. Fitz wondered how it was possible to love someone he'd known for so short a time so much. It had taken him time to connect to his other children and even that was iffy sometimes but with Isabelle, his Izzy, it was love at first sight—very similar to the way he had felt when he first laid eyes on her mother. He picked her up, headed for the kitchen.

"Are you hungry? Daddy's hungry," he said as he took an orange from the fruit bowl on the island. He set her next to it and she watched with interest as peeled it. He gave her a juicy wedge, smiling as she smashed it with her tight little grip before putting it in her mouth. "You eat like a piggy, Izzy!"

She laughed as she licked her hand. He gave her another wedge before eating one himself. They finished the orange, her smashing it and making a sticky mess of her polka-dotted pajamas. He cleaned her up as best he could with a wet paper towel. "Wanna make Mommy some breakfast?"

He went to the cabinet and pulled out the box of Aunt Jemima pancake mix. He held up the box in front of Isabelle, shifting her to his hip. "Waffles or pancakes?"

She babbled and poked the box. He smiled at his smart baby girl. "You're right. Definitely waffles."

He found the waffle press in one of the bottom cabinets then retrieved a bowl from a top one. He put the large spoon in Isabelle's hand, placing his on top of it as they stirred the batter. He sang softly, as he breathed in her perfect baby scent, "Heart and soul/I fell in love with you heart in soul/The way a fool would do, madly/Because you held me tight/And stole a kiss in the night."

Isabelle looked at her father like she hadn't known he could make that kind of noise. After putting the waffles in the press, he put her in her high chair. He asked, "You want Cheerios or those Gerber puff things?"

She babbled, banging on the chair's plastic tray excitedly. He wasn't sure what that meant so he went with the Gerber puffs. He wiped off the little tray with a Lysol wipe then poured the little pink puffs on the tray. Isabelle squealed and began stuffing her face. He went to turn off the press after it dinged, announcing that the waffles were finished. She held one out to him and he ate it, remarking, "These really aren't that bad."

She ate almost all of the puffs and whooped for more. He poured more on the tray then went to get her cup from the dishwasher. He poured grape juice in it then, after making sure the lid was screwed on tightly, gave it to Isabelle. He smirked when she put it down a moment later, a deep frown on her little face.

He asked, "Are you making poopsies?" She continued to frown, even grunting a little as she strained. He shook his head. "Yeah you are."

He waited for her to finish then took her upstairs to change her. While he cleaned her up, he said, "Mommy wants us to go to one of those Daddy & Me classes, but I don't think we're gonna do that. I think we're gonna play hooky and hit the park."

She babbled as he put a fresh diaper on her. He had a second thought. "No. We're gonna hit the zoo. Daddy hasn't gotten to take you to the zoo yet."

He put her pajama pants back on then set her on the floor while he went to her closet. It always amused him that such little clothes had such a big closet. He pulled out white overalls and a pink t-shirt. Isabelle was pulling herself up by a leg on her crib. She had yet to attempt walking but he was sure she was close. She turned to look at him as he held out her white sandals. "These good? Okay."

He found her little white floppy sunhat then left the outfit on the changing table. He picked her up and carried her downstairs on his shoulders, smiling as she laughed uncontrollably. When he got to the kitchen, he found a pajama clad Olivia taking the waffles from the press and putting them on a plate.

"Those aren't yours," Fitz announced. She turned around and smiled at him.

"Well you left them unattended so I figure finders keepers," she replied. He took Isabelle off his shoulders, settling her on his hip as he walked into the kitchen. Olivia reached up and rubbed his stubbly cheek, still a little awed by the fact that she went to sleep next to him every night and woke up next to him every morning. He was hers, free and clear. He had been hers for a decade and some change, but only hers in the open for two blissful years. She couldn't believe she had been able to wait a year to marry him, despite his daily proposals during their "official" courting. But she had wanted to do it right. And he had wanted to give her everything she deserved.

The got married in April, on a sunny, perfectly warm day. Karen had been a bridesmaid. Mellie had smirked on a back row after showing up unexpectedly. She had been invited out of politeness but no one had actually expected her there. Cyrus was Fitz's best man and Teddy had been the ring bearer. Huck walked her down the aisle, actually smiling. Abby was her maid of honor, grinning like a proud mama in her Tiffany blue bridesmaid dress. Olivia had surprised everyone by wearing blush instead of white. She didn't need to wear white anymore, didn't feel the need to project purity. She was in love and the blush hue against her mocha skin made her feel like she was glowing, like she felt when Fitz held her hand in front of people and looked at her like she was the sun warming him after a long, desolate winter. Fitz had watched her with awe-struck misty eyes as she marched toward him, dashingly handsome in a smoke gray tux. She still wore the diamond ring he had given her years ago before they were out in the open, the one that held all the promises of the world of dreams he wanted to give her. Their white gold wedding bands bore the same engraved promise, "Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever ours."

Now, they were a real family. Olivia was over the moon, looking down at the rest of the world from Cloud 9. Fitz couldn't believe he was so happy, so free, so content. He had never known such love, such absolute elation.

Olivia asked, "So what are you and my princess doing today while I trudge around doing errands?"

"We're going to the zoo," he announced proudly.

Olivia smirked. "So you get to shoot the bull at the zoo while I pick up dry cleaning and get the car washed. Seems completely fair, Fitzgerald."

"I could get the car washed on the way to the zoo, and pick up the dry cleaning. I'd do anything for you, Mrs. Grant."

She smiled at being called Mrs. Grant. "I suppose you could. Maybe I'll go shopping, or get a manicure, or go cruise the sexy pretzel guys in the park. The possibilities are endless now that I don't have anything to do!"

He stepped close to her, invading her personal space. He grinned wickedly. "'Sexy pretzel guys' huh? I might just have to chain you up in the basement, little woman."

She smiled defiantly. "As long as you promise to teach me a lesson I won't soon forget while you're at it, Mr. Grant."

He gave her one deliciously soft kiss. "Go eat your breakfast before you talk your way into some trouble, Livvie."

She smiled at him as she carried her plate to the table, giving his boxer-covered butt a little pinch as she passed. He smiled at her as she sat down then carried Isabelle to the table. She had been content to stay with him for a while but now that her mommy was up and about, she was eager to get away.

"Did you miss Mommy?" Olivia cooed as she snuggled her baby girl. The little girl giggled at having her face covered with kisses. "Mommy missed you. Daddy stole you away this morning."

"Well Daddy is gonna go get in the shower so he can steal her away again," Fitz announced then went upstairs to get in the shower. He could hear Olivia singing "Heart and Soul" to their baby girl as he climbed the stairs, a goofy smile on his face.


End file.
